House of Hounds
by SHE-RAquel
Summary: [Sandor's POV] The Hound thinks back on his life at the Clegane keep; From growing up with his brother Gregor to the mysterious death of his sister Irus Clegane.


**!PLEASE READ!**

**I do not own any of the characters. The names of Sandor's sister, father, and grandfather are not canon in the books. Sandor Clegane, the Lannisters, Targaryens and other familiar characters belong to the talented George R.R. Martin! This story is a tribute to him and one of his well-known character, the Hound. **

**If you find any grammar mistakes, feel free to comment so I will know. I will never be as amazing as George R.R. Martin so that's that but please feel free to critique the story itself. I want to say thank you for taking the time to read my story. If you want to read more, please fav or leave me a review if you can. I want to see where this will take me. Enjoy!**

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I will never forget the pain I endured the first night with my scars. I lay out on my bed like a corpse in the Sept and all I can hear were the footsteps of my father and our maester Callum. My eyes could not open fully but I heard their voices echoing from the distance. "Praise to the Seven that your son is lucky to survive from the brazier." "But will his face heal?" I recognized that this was my father's stern voice that replied with much concern.

"No matter how much treatment and coin will take," cried the frail voice of the maester, "I'm afraid it will never be healed completely, Lord Seth. "My father signed, "if a serf were to do this to my son, I would have him executed on the spot… however I am at a lost as to what I am to do with Gregor."

Aye Gregor, I remember when I use to shiver at that fucking name when I was a boy. Even at that very moment, I would tremble at the sound of that arsehole's name like a lion's roar. Suddenly I heard someone knocking from across the room. My bedroom door flings open and another sound breaks the solemn stillness of the room. "Who did this?" I recognize that this earsplitting voice belonged to my older sister Irus, "who had done this to him? They shall be hanged in the gallows for their crime against their Lord!"

"Silence, Irus!" my father growls at my sister. Callum intervenes, "Lady Clegane, I can explain what happened to the little lord if you please remain calm."

"Maester Callum," my father intervenes, "please forgive my daughter's unruly behavior. She forgets her Septa's teachings to be a proper lady in the presence of noble men."

"With all due respect father," Irus answers, "my family's well-being comes first before decorum. I will not have my dear little brother Sandor lay here in this state while his attacker runs amok in our Keep."

"So tell me Lady Irus Clegane, what do you plan to do with your brother Gregor once you throw him in the iron stocks, eh?" My father harshly banters at my sister. Irus gasps at father but her voice was drench in fear of the truth behind his words. "What does Gregor have anything to do with Sandor?"

My father hiss, "Sandor stole Gregor's wooden knight and was playing near a brazier." I heard my father's footsteps coming closer to my bed as he continues, "He enraged your brother and…"

"It was not Sandor fault!" Irus snarls like a she-wolf defending her cubs. Since my mother's death, Irus took the responsibility to care, not as the eldest of the Clegane children but like a mother to Gregor and me. "If Sandor did not play with that damn toy to begin with, he would not have been burn!" my fathers voice rose like thunder as he continues, "I see no reason why he should steal Gregor's toy when he also has his own to claim!"

His thunderous speech stirs me to open one of my eyes to look at his face. As I regain my vision, I notice his thick bushy eyebrows and steely gray eyes that could stab a man's heart in his stance. As he stares down at me, his expression wore of disappointment as if it were my undoing that I provoke his precious son and heir. No matter how strict my father was to his children, he always had a soft spot for Gregor for he was stronger than me, taller than me, older by five years, and was quick to grab a sword before the age of 5. As the firstborn male, the future of House Clegane depended on my brother so my father grooms him like a fucking prince.

My father shakes his head and walks away from my bed. My sister continues to defend me, "he is just a child. He didn't know any better. All men envy their brothers in their youth."

"If that's the case," my father scolds, "let this be a lesson for him." And with that, he left the room along with Maester Callum, showing his back to me.

So did you hear that? My own father brushes me off like horseshit on his boots yet my brother remains unscathed from his wrath. I shut my eye out tightly to forget the look on my father's face. At that age, I use to pray to all of the seven gods that I would forget who my father was. Sometimes, they would answer my prayers with a visit from the Maiden herself. "Sandor, can you hear me?" My sister cried and places a hand on my small shoulder.

To this day, I could still remember how her hands feel every time Irus would touch my shoulder to comfort me. She had delicate long fingers that would soothe away every kind of pain I had endured as a boy. She had a gift to calm the storm inside me with just a flick of her palm. Alas, this time my skin stings from her soft touch because of the burnt flesh on my face. Nonetheless it did not stop her from nurturing me with her touch.

I flinched a little when she dabs a cool damp towel on my temple. My good eye flickers openly to look at her while she sits on a stool next to my bed. I recall that whenever Irus flashes a smile at you, it was big enough to melt the icy Wall of the Night's Watch into a moat. She notices my awakening and gives me one of her those toothy grins. "Hey, are you awake, Sleeping Beauty?" Irus said using her god-giving talent of the silver tongue, a noble trait of the Cleganes.

Along with her smile, she was the most handsome of the Cleganes with the trademark black hair that reach down to her waist. She had beautiful eyes that were the color of water and her fair skin was as white as snow. Many of my father's subjects doubted that she was a Clegane by birth but a lost fosterling in contrast to our family's typical features.

Unlike the Lannisters and the Tyrells who were renown for their graceful appearances, the Cleganes were anything but beautiful. The men were always tall and brawny while the women were at most homely. Irus was a bit tall for a woman but made up in her beauty as an exception. The competition for her hand was fierce amongst the noble houses in the Westerland region. I lost count of how many suitors, from lowborn and highborn houses that would come barging at our gates on their great white horses just to ask father for Irus's hand in marriage.

In response, I tilt my head to the side and groaned, "If you stop poking me with your damn finger like a fucking crow I'll be better." I am the son of a petty lord but I been bless with the mouth of an Ironborn pirate at age six. Irus mockingly touches her heart if offended by my distasteful speech. "Why my little lord, that is no way to talk to a proper lady!" She continues, "I understand that if any words come pouring out of your cunt mouth, I will have to wash it with fucking soap!"

Uncontrollably, I burst out snorting until my wounds started to sting again and I moan out loud. My sister coos and brushes my hair away from my face. "There, that's enough for now," she softly sings, "I should not have curse." "No please say more," I pleaded, "I thinks every lady should yap like that so I won't have to be so bored at those bloody parties!" Irus laughs and grabs a cup from my nightstand to fill it with some type of orange water out of a pitcher. "Well, you need to heal soon before my Name Day," she said before she pushes the cup to my lips. As she orders me to drink, I took a swig at it and quickly spit it out. "What in the seven hells is in that cup?" I asked.

"That was orange juice," Irus replied, "an exotic gift from Essos that could cure any ailment."

"How did you get this orange juice? What is it?" I interrogated.

"It's a fruit that grows from trees like an apple. However, it's a bit sour and only grows where it's warm year-round."

"Than how did you get it?" I scoff, "You were never a farmer!"

Casually, Irus wipes off my spit on the cup with her long yellow sleeves. She elaborates, "Don't believe me? I forgot to mention that I happen to grow wings and flew all the way to Braavos for the best medicine I can find for you."

"Braavos?" I rise up halfway to be supported on my hands and gaze straight into her eyes, "and you didn't even ask me to come with you! I don't believe you went there. Let alone fly over there like a raven!"

I laid back on the bed and turn to my left side to look away from her. With a hint of hurt, Irus puts her hand on my soldier. She cried, "My sweet baby brother, you do not trust your loving sister's words? What if I told you that I got these oranges from a Faceless Man?"

Finally, I turn back to face her. She smirks at me and my smile matches her. I snorted, "Faceless men kill people, not sell oranges to half-wit wenches." "Or ladies," she orders me and pushes the cup to my face, "now drink."

I gulp down the juice just as she orders. To my surprise, it was not all that bad as I thought. Still I ponder where she got this sour drink. As if she was reading my mind, she complies, "I will confess. I did not go to Braavos but met a very handsome Braavosi who sold me this at the marketplace today."

"Father will not approve any suitor outside of Westeros," I said, "especially _Dark ones_ from Braavos."

"Oh tsk, tsk," she reprimands, "he was just a businessman nothing more, nothing less. However, I know that you study books on Braavosi culture, the Free Cities, and the Faceless men."

"Aye, you know me well," I admitted.

"No, its because you are a Clegane," she looks straight at me as if waiting for an answer, "do you know what I mean by that?"

"A dog will die for you, but never lie to you," I replied.

"And he'll look you straight in the face," she grins as she utter our personal family motto. It's an old saying that was passed down from my grandfather when he was a kennel master for House Lannister. He was the first knight of House Clegane when he saved their patriarch Tytos Lannister from certain death by a lioness with the help of my grandfather's three black dogs. Since he saved his life, Tytos granted my grandfather lands, a castle, and took my father Seth Clegane as his squire. Now those three hounds grace our house sigil, clothing and banner men.

After I finish my drink, my sister stands up and proclaims, "As much as I would love to sit here and bore you some details on the life of a noble lady, I must retire to my room." I moan for her not to leave and wish her to stay a bit longer. She replied, "its past your bedtime child."

"Bugger that, I cannot sleep with this rag on my face," I complain.

"You will have to get use to it," she replied, "now off to bed with you and quit whining like a pussycat." As she was about to reach for the door nob, I cried out, "But you can't leave! Not after what Gregor did to me."

Irus stops in her tracks. There was a pregnant pause between Irus and me. She almost forgot that Gregor and I share the same room despite that he was a squire and nearly grown. Yet, Gregor always arrive late from his training with the Lannister knights in which I thank the gods for. Irus puffs air out and turns to face me. She asks with compassion, "do you want me to stay with you so I can scare him off?"

I nodded in reply then she walks over to my bed. She commanded, "move your bum over, pup. I don't got all night."

I did what she commanded and scooted more to the left. I lay my head on her shoulder while I wrap my arms around her. She covers us with the bed coverlet and pats my head softly. She asks if I'm asleep yet. I said no for I was not tired. I ask her about the celebration for her 15th Name Day. "It seems father has invited every family in the Seven Kingdoms for my Name Day party just so he has a chance to marry me off to some rich fat lord's son."

"You think the Targaryens will show up?" I ask with a hint of mischief. At the time, the Targaryens ruled from the Iron Throne before Robert's Rebellion. "You really want to see me marry off with those crazy dragon folk, eh?" She eyes me down and said, "I heard they grow their fingernails long so to pick their nose with it." She tickles me and I surrender with a chortle. "Although, being a queen does come with benefits I agree."

"So does that mean you will lay eggs and breath fire?" I tease her. She pinches my arm softly and I yelp like a puppy. Usually, we taunt each other as a sign of affection.

"Nah," she replies, "I never like lizards anyway." I sigh and hug her tightly. _Fire and Blood_, the Targaryen motto now shakes the very core of my soul. When I close my eyes I can still feel the hot cinders digging into my skin. I remember how Gregor would pound my head into the burning coals and I was screaming as loud as a newborn.

Instantly, I feel a hand soothing my shoulder and assuming it was Gregor's hand jolt up. Much to my relief, it was my sister's hand but I hit her chin by accident.

"Oi, what the hell is that for?" Irus shouted.

"Sorry, I-I-I was thinking of the fire."

"You thought I was Gregor, didn't you?"

I nodded without words. She read my mind so well.

"Well don't you worry about no fire," my sister promises, "Not when I'm around. Thank the gods we don't live in the North."

I lay back down on the bed and she wraps her arms protectively. She continues, "Since we always have good weather in the Westerlands, how about we have a picnic once you get your strength back. I will make your favorite meal."

"Are you saying your going to roast chicken for me?"

"I will try to roast chicken but I can't promise you it taste well."

"So you can breath fire like a dragon," I taunted and raise my hand to hold my noise as if her breath has a stench. She pouts at me with her lips and responds "And you smell like one too!" I stuck out my tongue and she laughs so heartily. Then I ask her for a song.

Irus had a beautiful voice that will make all the birds envy of her when she sings ballads about knights saving fair maidens. I never had a favorite song for her to sing so I ask her to sing her favorite song instead. "Do you want to listen to the Mother's prayer?" I look up at her and I nodded with anticipation. "Very well then," she would always say.

_Gentle Mother, font of mercy,_

_Save our sons from war, we pray._

_Stay the swords and stay the arrows,_

_Let them know a better day._

Sometimes, I wonder what my mother would look like. How she carries herself into a hall with such pride and dignity that can rival the Queen of Westeros. Many nights I imagine how she would smile, laugh, and sing to me when I feel so alone in this world. I would dream of her cradling me like a babe in her arms and telling me that I would be greatest knight in the history of the known world. At that moment, my fear of fire went away and I stare at the woman before me. I wonder if my mother ever looks like my sister.

Irus caught my stare and said, "Do you want me to continue singing, pup?" I ask, "Could you sing the one about the knight and the bathing beauty?"

"So you want to hear about the love affair of Florian and Jonquil? Did you not hear this song way too many?"

"I forgot how it starts," I lied.

She giggles, "Liar, we both know this is your favorite song. I will sing it anyway because I love you." And with that she sang the song about the foolish knight and his maiden. I close my eyes again but not of nightmares, instead I envision my mother singing to me.


End file.
